Brighter Days Collection

I’ve heard that one of the most daunting things to the artist is the intimidation of a blank canvas. Likely because I’ve had everything familiar to me already ripped away by illness, I love the opportunity that a blank canvas provides. I see the endless possibility and potential and get energized and excited each time I’m able to create. At this stage of my illness, nothing makes me happier. Creating art is still a challenge, but it is one I look forward to: I have to lay on the floor and can only tolerate 10 minute increments of focused energy.

This collection is titled “Brighter Days” as it began with paintings created after 8/2023, almost 2 full years into my illness when I was finally able to look out a window and open the black out curtain to allow light into my home. Previous to this, my light sensitivity was extreme such that I spent every day and night in darkness.

Joy

18x24 acrylic on canvas

Based on the timeframe in which this was created, it should go in the “Pivot” collection. It was finished in April of 2022, and I have little memory of creating this as I was quite sick. The only thing I recall is the desperate need to create some joy in my life, so I chose colors that make me happy and just started working away on a blank canvas. I believe my husband found me lying on the ground unable to speak or control my movements after spending some time painting. He transferred me safely to bed, and I was pleased the next day to find this painting. It does indeed bring me joy.

Journey

12x16 acrylic on canvas.

Created early in my illness, summer of 2022, to represent my vibrant past with the overlay of memory loss. My overarching vibe was one of hope: that with patience and time I’ll recover fully and return to the life I once had. One day at a time.

Fun fact about this piece: I heavily regressed during January/ February of 2023 to the point that I no longer had the ability to paint. This piece sat where I looked at it all day. Though its composition is quite simple, I was impressed that my mind could create this with absolutely no background or education in art. As I laid there suffering, this piece inspired me to carry on despite all of the confusion and pain…if I could create something beautiful that meant there was deep down something worthy left inside of me and I could still make some sort of positive impact in the world. Thus, my life was worth living.

Autumn Solitude

24X24 acrylic, oil pastel, graphite on canvas.

Being home bound is challenging as the days shorten and my family participates in fun Fall sports and activities. The ample time alone leads my mind to wander and reflect. Before becoming ill, I was constantly surrounded by the bustle and chaos of many people, such that I found myself quite uncomfortable when alone. A small blessing of being sick is the comfort of the quiet. I find joy in solitude and treasure the simplicity of daily life. Life is your perception of the experience, not always the experience itself.

Boundless

24x36. Acrylic, oil pastel, charcoal and graphite on canvas.

My day to day life is filled with limitations: can’t stand longer than 5 minutes; can’t read more than a few sentences; can’t watch complicated shows; can’t listen to music; can’t shower more than 1-2 times a week…the list goes on and on. Things that I took for granted before I got sick have all been taken away, almost everything is off limits. The one thing that continues to inspire hope for me is painting. Each empty canvas represents endless potential and that alone provides me freedom. Creating gives me a welcome reprieve from living in survival mode. Of course there are some “rules” for creating successful art, but sometimes magic happens when boundaries are tested.

Anticipation

24x24”, Acrylic, charcoal, oil pastel on canvas

My days are filled with a silent nervous energy. Though I try to surrender to surviving with an illness having an unknown prognosis, I can’t help but wonder what my future holds. My physical condition varies widely day-to-day based on how much physical, cognitive or emotional energy I used the days prior. Minimal stimulation can cause days or weeks of horrendous symptoms leaving me stranded in bed. Regardless of my physical condition there remains this daily anticipation: Is today going to be the day where a cure for Long COVID is discovered? The day where the government and media acknowledge the existence of my illness? The day where physicians and the medical system attempt to aid those suffering like myself? Or is today the day I suddenly become miraculously cured? I’ll keep waiting in anticipation.

Be Brave

18X24 Acrylic, Oil Pastel, Charcoal on Canvas

I'm not a fan of quotes lingering around, but I had just one in my former office: “Life begins at the end of your comfort zone.” I bought this small quote on a card to hang in my new office when I moved into academia as a reminder of my personal life goals and the uncomfortable journey often required to achieve them.

Like many healthcare providers, I sought to make a positive impact on the world. As a physical therapist, I accomplished this one patient at a time. However, as a DPT professor, my ability to influence grew exponentially. Despite my overwhelming fear of public speaking, the difference I made in my students' lives and the lives of their future patients made it worthwhile. Making this positive impact became my litmus test for every decision and my personal motivation each day.

When I suddenly became disabled, I not only lost my ability to work but also what I felt was my purpose in life. Each day became a painful struggle, and I often questioned why I was left alive but unable to do much besides suffer. My "comfort zone" had vanished completely, and life was so challenging that every day I had to summon the courage to live another day.

2.5 years later, life remains a significant challenge, but I choose to persevere by sharing my story and advocating for others suffering from long COVID, like myself. Although my personal mission has been altered, I still hope I'm making a positive impact, even if it's more indirect or not immediately apparent to me. I'll keep being brave.

Communication

16x20 Acrylic, Oil Pastel, Charcoal on Canvas

I used to thrive in loud, busy environments. I loved being in a crowd, surrounded by friends and listening to music. The more stimulus, the more I felt alive.

Since my brain injury caused by COVID-19, any mild stimulus- noise, light, touch, can cause immense pain and profound cognitive impairment. Though I’ve improved over the past 2.5 years, still the sound of a bird singing, or a background song from a tv commercial can be quite unsettling. Worst yet are multiple competing stimuli. Trying to hold a conversation with someone with other visual or auditory distractions is almost impossible. Minor things such as other conversations, background music, or the sound of wind in the trees suddenly all overwhelm my brain and I become severely confused, unable to understand what someone is trying to say to me. I often forget who I am speaking to even though they may be a close friend. I am hopeful for a day when my brain is healed and I can again enjoy a busy life, filled with people and all the world has to offer.

Who am I?

36”x 36” Acrylic and Graphite on Gallery Wrapped Canvas

Before my brain and multi-organ damage caused by COVID-19, I had a clear purpose in life, including my contributions to making the world a better place. Because of my frontal lobe brain damage, I may never be able to answer the deep questions regarding my identity and purpose in life, but that doesn’t keep me from pondering. Who am I? Why was I left alive if my “life” is now limited to the confines of my bed and sofa? Because of the severity of my Long COVID, my future is so uncertain that I don’t think about it. Severe cases like mine don’t typically recover and often die within several years, but despite the statistics, I keep my thoughts positive. My memory and thought processes are so muddled that I’ll likely never understand. And so, I continue to paint to distract myself. "Who am I" started with basic facts about myself; I used a 1970’s color palette representing my birth and covered many details with a thick white coat, representing my memory loss. Further minute details were added on top of the white, representing my current life and the little I recall from day to day.

Missing

36” x 24” Acrylic, Oil Pastel, Charcoal and Graphite on Gallery Wrapped Canvas

I create as a way to communicate and process my loss after becoming disabled by COVID-19. I’ve been bedridden and/or home bound for almost 3 years, and this is typical of millions of others like me that suffer the most severe impacts of Long COVID and ME/CFS. You don’t see us, but we are still alive yet completely erased from society. Please don’t forget about us.

“Missing” was created using a busy, colorful and detailed under painting that was loosely covered and then sanded to reveal the beauty that lies beneath. Light but semitransparent painting overlays to represent my new, yet very incomplete life.

Third Spring

24x24 Acrylic, Oil Pastel and Charcoal on Gallery Wrapped Canvas

When I first became sick with COVID 10/21 and subsequently encephalitis with horrible neurological issues, I was told to be patient that I’d would be back to my old self by Spring. Well Spring ‘22 arrived and I found myself in much worse condition than the previous Fall. Again, I was told to be patient as I lay in bed in my dark bedroom, next Spring I’ll be back to normal. Same story, I was still in bad condition my second Spring. Over the past year, I’ve improved enough to tolerate looking out a window and having daylight flow through my home. Finding moments of positivity, like being able to look out a window, can truly make a difference. Living with gratitude can be a powerful mindset shift, allowing you to appreciate the small joys even amidst challenges.

Lost

20x24 Acrylic, Oil Pastel, Charcoal on Canvas

Before having brain and multi organ damage and becoming disabled post COVID my identity was defined by what I did and had accomplished: I am a mom, I am a physical therapist, I am a marathon runner, I I am strong, I am smart, I am a scientist, I am healthy, I am a professor, I’m a leader, I am a generous with helping others.

Now, evaluating by the same standards being disabled, home bound and often bedridden: I am sick, I am confused, I am in pain, I am lazy, I am stupid, I am a burden, I am scared. Conflicting thoughts are frequent because I’m an eternal optimist. Therefore, I am lost.

I’ve been forced to give up my previous identity but am left in limbo as to who I am and my purpose in being alive. With my brain injury I may never find the answer to this question, instead I seek to find satisfaction in just being. That is enough.

Abstract Floral Series

2024 is my first Spring in 3 years where my light sensitivity has lessened enough to allow me to look out a window and spend small amounts of time outside. The beauty of nature has inspired me to paint this limited series of 3.

Sisters. 20x24. Acrylic, Oil Pastel and Charcoal on Canvas.

Mother’s Day 24x20. Acrylic, Oil Pastel and Charcoal on Canvas.

Summer Breeze. 36x24 Acrylic and Oil Pastel on Gallery Wrapped Canvas

Southern Magnolia 24x24. Acrylic and Charcoal on Canvas.

Kindness

48x24 Acrylic, Oil Pastel and Charcoal on Gallery Wrapped Canvas

I’m incredibly grateful to still be alive after 2.5 challenging years. I give all the credit to my family and friends that still provide daily care and support. Your kindness and generosity provides me with the strength to carry on.

Forced Optimism

12x12 Acrylic, Oil Pastel and Charcoal on Canvas

Being home bound and bedridden with extremely limited energy along with neurological and cognitive loss isn’t easy. Doing too much physically or cognitively can cause very severe symptoms that last for days, weeks or months. This is called Post Exertional Malaise (PEM) and is a hallmark of ME/CFS caused by Long COVID and is considered to be more debilitating than end stage renal disease and cancer. Suffering through these days are absolutely brutal and takes every ounce of strength to carry on.

Mixed Emotions

48x48 Acrylic and Charcoal on Gallery Wrapped Canvas

I began painting this during the week my husband and 3 kids vacationed to the beach leaving me home, too sick to travel. Time with family is the most precious thing to me so I was left in deep dispair when they departed. However, I quickly realized how fortunate I am. My village of kind friends alternated stopping by each day for meals and sleepovers. It was a rough week, filled with both gratitude and sadness.

Tides of Uncertainty

36x24 Acrylic, Graphite and Oil Pastel on Canvas.

Being homebound, everyday is similar in events, yet different in how I feel. Huge shifts occur based on the amount of physical, cognitive, or emotional energy I have used in the previous days. Though I try my best to limit stimulation, an exciting visit from a friend, a funny movie, taking a shower, or trying to read social media posts can all impact my health in the upcoming days or weeks. Too much stimulation in earlier days results in waking with a fever and severe headache, exhaustion so severe that I feel as heavy as concrete, cognitive challenges such that I can’t follow a conversation, and occasionally a return of seizures. It’s impossible to set goals or attempt to complete tasks because of the constant uncertainty.

Whirlwind of Summer

16x20 Acrylic, Oil Pastel and Charcoal on Canvas

Being homebound, the biggest annual change for me is the length of day and the angle the sunlight streams through my windows. Outside of that, summer is the most dynamic season because my kids are home and they bring much joy, excitement, and love into my life. Though purposely present in each moment with them, summer flies by and I’m left in solitude, watching the annual changes in sunlight.

Works on paper

Each 12x9 acrylic, graphite and oil pastel

An exploration of colors, texture and patterns using a variety of tools and materials on paper. These were fun to create as I progress in finding my own artistic vision and style.